Control
by XWaltzforVenusX
Summary: RyanTaylor. S1, very AU. Ryan is angry, and Taylor catches his interest. Rated for adult themes, language, and one very pissed off Ryan.
1. Fracture

_Some of you might recognize the first part of this as __a drabble__ from 'Testosterone'. I __wrote that__ first, and this came after it._

_I should also warn that this is very angry, and very smutty, with gratuitous language. Kiddies beware. _

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Part One: Fracture

"Excuse me? Hi." Taylor Townsend clasped her hands in front of her and stood, waiting for a reply.

"What do you want?" the boy shot back at her.

"You can't do that here. There's no smoking on school property." She motioned at his cigarette. He took it out of his mouth, looked at it appraisingly, then stuck it back between his lips. The light at the end burned brightly against the dark of the night.

"What are you, the police?" He took a huge drag and blew it out in her general direction. Taylor's mouth went wide at his audacity.

"No, but I could report you," she hissed, indignant. This boy had only been at Harbor for a week, and already he was causing trouble.

"It's not even school hours," he rolled his eyes.

"But it's a school dance, which still makes it official school hours. Look, I really don't want you to get into trouble. I'm trying to do you a favor." She smoothed down her pink plaid skirt, not sure how to deal with him.

He took one last, hard, drag before throwing it to the ground and snuffing it out. He held the breath in for much longer than Taylor thought healthy – not that smoking was healthy to begin with – and then let it out in a huge sigh. "God, I hate this place." He seemed to be talking to himself. Then he started walking towards the door that led into the gym, which happened to be situated behind her. He stopped when he got close to her. "By the way," he rumbled in her ear, his body very close. "I don't need any favors."

She was frozen to the spot, staring straight ahead and not at him: half afraid, half excited. She had never met anyone like him before. He wore a leather jacket, for crying out loud. He stood there, mere centimeters between them, for a few more seconds, his eyes following the curve of her neck and down to the top of her dress. He finally smirked, then went back inside.

When he was gone, she stumbled back against the wall, and pressed a palm to her pounding heart. No. She had definitely never met anyone like him.

* * *

"Where'd you go?" Seth asked, hands in his pockets.

"I had to get out of here for a few seconds," Ryan explained. Seth nodded understandingly.

"It is a little…"

"Crushing?" Ryan supplied.

"Crushing in here," Seth agreed. The two boys looked at the overabundance of decorations hanging throughout the gymnasium. Back in Chino all they had ever done was throw a couple streamers over the basketball nets, but here…

"These Newport chicks really go all out," Ryan looked at the huge papier-mâché palm trees lining the space. The students sipped punch out of coconut shells, little umbrella's stuck inside. They all wore bright colors and had leis strung around their necks. He and Seth must be the only people in the room wearing dark colors.

"I wouldn't know," Seth told him, "this being my first extra-curricular school event."

"I can't blame you for staying away," Ryan cringed as a girl near him started talking in pitches that must have been out of human range.

"Are you kidding me?" Seth asked, incredulous. "I always wanted to go." The reason for this chose that moment to walk by them.

"Chino, Cohen," Summer Roberts stood in front of them, coconut in one hand, the other on her hip. Seth stared at the low cut tank top she was wearing, and the short skirt.

"Summer…"

Ryan decided to zone out. He really didn't need to hear Seth get all sappy and pathetic, and Summer laugh and pretend like she didn't enjoy it. He was just scanning the room, looking for something - anything - to interest him, when he saw her. That pushy girl from outside; the bossy one who told him to put out the cigarette.

She was a hot piece of work, though.

His eyes followed her through the crowd. She talked to almost every person she saw, smiling brightly and gesturing emphatically. After a couple of minutes, he figured out the pattern: '_are you having a __good time?', 'yes', 'great!'_. Next person. Ryan noticed after a while, though, that she never really stopped to talk with anyone beyond that.

"Hey, Chino, I was talking to you," Summer's voice cut into his watching. Turning to face the two, he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "I asked you if you wanted to come to the real party after this."

"There's a real party?" Ryan asked.

"Duh," Summer said in that tone of voice, like what she was saying was completely obvious. "These school parties are so lame."

"Then why do you come?" he asked, not really caring.

"Because Coop plans them," she explained, sipping her coconut drink.

"Why isn't she here then?"

Summer paused. "I don't know. I think she stayed home to hang with her dad."

"Doesn't she live with him?" Seth interrupted. Summer nodded, shrugging at the same time.

"Are you having a good time?" a cheerful voice cut in. The trio turned towards the girl in pink.

Ryan looked her up and down again, enjoying the way she tensed up. She was pretending like their little episode outside hadn't happened. Fine, he would play along.

"Yeah, sure," Summer waved her hand vaguely at the blonde, not really paying attention.

"Great!" the girl's smile seemed to be permanently plastered to her face. "Keep having fun!" she said brightly, turning to move on to the next group of people.

"Who is she?" Ryan asked. Seth stared at him for a moment.

"Man, I keep forgetting you're really not from here. That's Taylor Townsend, get to know her name, and learn to avoid her."

"Cause she's really weird, and really fake," Summer explained, looking over her shoulder at the girl, who was talking to a new group of students.

"Really?" Ryan asked sarcastically. "People in Newport are fake?"

Seth let out a choked laugh, and Summer glared. "Yeah, well, she's the devil. She pretends to be all nice and everything, but she's really not. Plus, she has, like, no friends. And she really wants Marissa's position as social chair."

Ryan shrugged, "she seems to be doing a good job at it, considering Marissa isn't even here for her own event." Summer opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"Whatever. Wanna dance, Cohen?" She grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him onto the floor, where he stood like an idiot while she moved.

* * *

"You should really get more involved," the voice said from behind him.

He was standing in the – cool and deserted – hallway outside the gym doors, taking another break. "Really?" he replied monotonously. "I don't see that happening."

She sighed, and moved to stand next to him. "You're new to this school; you should be making more of an effort to make friends and connections."

"Well from what I hear, you're in no position to make any comment on my friend situation." He waited for the explosion – the intense drama that seemed to accompany all of these Newport girls. It didn't come. He glanced over at the girl and found her still smiling.

"You don't really know anything about me," she replied calmly, looking down at her perfect pink nails.

"And you don't know anything about me," he countered, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. She looked up at him, a polite smile still on her lips.

"Well, I know that you've talked to a grand total of two people – not including me – the entire night. One of those people you live with, and the other you probably wouldn't have talked to if the first one hadn't been there."

"And I know that you've talked to almost every person in that room, but only asked them how their night was. That doesn't really scream 'we're best friends'." He wasn't really sure why he was doing this – trying to compete with her. He didn't really care about her or anything in this place.

"So you've been watching me," she looked up at him. "I really meant for you to get more involved with people in general, not focus it solely on one." She was mocking him, still smiling politely. He wished she would stop.

"Well apparently you've been watching me, to know that I've only talked to two people," he countered. Really, why was he arguing? He should just tell her to shut the hell up and leave him alone. But something about that smile, that polite demeanor, made him want to bring her down. Happy people annoyed him.

"Of course I've been watching you."

Her answer took him off guard. "What?"

She shook her head at him, smile still there. "Please. You didn't think I would let a new student enter my school without observing him, did you?"

"Observing me?"

"Well, I've heard _all_ _sorts_ of interesting rumors about you, Ryan Atwood." He was a little surprised – and annoyed – that she knew his full name. "Car theft, arson, Juvie. I've got to keep tabs on all the students, or else there would be chaos." She turned her head towards the gymnasium, smile turning a little smug now. "I know a lot more about all of them then they could imagine."

"Why?" _Why_? Why was he even asking? This girl was creepy, and he should just go back inside. But something made him want to stay and find out what she knew.

"Because I need to level the playing field," she shrugged. "They all hate me; it's only fair that I get a piece of them too."

"Why do they hate you?" He really wanted to smoke.

She shrugged again. "Because I do well in school. Because I succeed at almost everything I do." Ryan was sure he should think of her as stuck up, but the way she said these things, it wasn't bragging. It just was. "But I think mostly, it's because I'm not like them. It's the same thing with your friend Seth. Do you think anyone was friends with him before you came? Do you think anyone even _talked_ to him before you came?" she shook her head sadly. "There are a lot of us, Ryan Atwood. The ones you don't see, the ones you don't talk to. We're there, but most of us are too shy to say or do anything about it. I seem to be the only one not letting it hold me back. And that's why people hate me. Instead of being able to ignore me, like they did with Seth, I force them to notice me. So they hate me." She looked down at the floor, breathed deeply, then looked back up. "But I won't hold it against them. They don't know how to be anything different. It's how their parents raised them. It's how their parents were raised, and their grandparents. Newport thrives on hatred and jealousy."

Ryan needed to smoke. Now. His hand was drifting towards the pocket that held the carton.

"If you're going to do that, go out that door," she pointed to a small exit off to the left. "No one ever goes out that way." With that she turned to him, smiled widely, said "have fun at the after party, Ryan Atwood," and then walked away.

* * *

She was in some of his classes, always sitting in the first row, always raising her hand and answering questions. He found himself watching her. Often.

He told himself he was just bored during class, but the truth was that he wanted to figure her out. No one with zero friends could be that happy and cheerful all the time. He had tried to glean information from Seth, Summer, and Marissa, but they seemed unwilling to talk about the girl – or unable to. Plus, he didn't want to make them suspicious, so he never asked more than one or two questions at a time.

* * *

"You should really learn to be stealthier," she murmured, barely moving her lips. Anyone who saw them would just think the two students happened to be standing next to each other.

Ryan froze. "I don't know what you're talking about." He, too, was barely moving his lips, trying to be inconspicuous.

She suppressed a laugh. "You know perfectly well what I mean. So if you're going to stare at me during classes, you should probably learn to hide it better or people will start talking. You know how they love to gossip."

"Fine. I'll be less obvious," he told her as Seth's car pulled up in front of him. Without another word, he walked to the car and got in, never looking back.

Taylor allowed herself the smallest of smiles.

* * *

He was definitely less obvious now. No one would notice that all he did was watch her.

But she knew.

And she let him know that she knew. Sometimes she would turn her head slightly, and smile politely at him. Sometimes she would cross her legs, letting her skirt ride up higher. Sometimes she would run her tongue over her bottom lip.

She knew he was watching.

* * *

Ryan got his test back. He wasn't really sure how he kept passing them, considering he didn't even pay attention in class. But he really understood math, so all the staring at her in the world didn't seem to be detrimental.

She passed by his desk on the way out the door. "Congratulations, Ryan," she said politely, as if they had never really spoken before at all.

* * *

"Why are we at another one of these?" Ryan asked, bored to death.

"Because Marissa planned it," Seth replied robotically. The two boys stood against the wall of the gymnasium, glaring at the decorations. This one's theme was 'magical evening', so there were unicorns and fairies sprinkled throughout the place. It was sickening, really. "We should go over and talk to them," Seth pointed at Summer and Marissa who stood off in the distance.

"You go, I'll be alright here," Ryan replied, distracted. Seth gave him a strange look, before shrugging and heading towards the dark-haired girl of his dreams.

Ryan looked back at the exit door as it swung shut, the last bit of bright yellow skirt disappearing.

* * *

He pushed her roughly up against the brick, ignoring the loud clang as the door shut behind him. He expected her to struggle, but this girl was just so full of surprises. She kissed him back with equal fervor, one hand going to his neck, the other one gripping his hair. She pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders, running her hands down his bare arms.

He growled into her mouth when she wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up. He dragged himself away to get some oxygen, gasping for breath. She did the same, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the wall. He took the opportunity to attack her neck, running his tongue from the hollow at the base of her throat to the bottom of her ear. She let out a long moan, and he grinned against her skin. This girl was such a freak.

He should have expected it, really. Anyone that polite and happy all the time had to have some way of letting tension go.

After getting most of his breath back, he went back to her mouth, shoving his tongue roughly against hers. She kissed him back, and arched her body against his. He was disappointed when – after a few more minutes of the intense make-out session – she broke the kiss.

"As fun as this is, I have to get back inside," she explained, lowering her legs, and pushing his body away. He stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" he sputtered out, completely taken aback.

She smiled at him in pity. "I'm sorry, Ryan, but I have to get back in there and make sure everything is running smoothly." She turned to go.

"Isn't that what Marissa is here for?" he growled into her ear as he caught her around the waist from behind.

"Do you really think she's actually doing any work in there?" She sighed a little as he bit her earlobe.

"I really don't care," he spun her around.

"Well, I do," she told him resolutely.

"Why," he was exasperated now, and a little angry at being denied. "They hate you, and you don't seem to like them either."

She gave a little shrug, "but I'm not going to let them forget me." Ryan stared in disbelief as she walked back into the party, straightening her skirt as she went.

* * *

"Where were you?" Seth asked, glancing over at his new best friend.

"Just had to get out of here," Ryan repeated his lines from the last dance.

"Why?" Summer interrupted. Ryan shrugged, not really caring enough to explain. Seth shrugged too, he didn't really know what was wrong. Seth and Summer gave Ryan little looks of confusion, because the blonde boy was staring off into space. Eventually they gave up, and continued their conversation.

Ryan watched her mingle. He watched as the female students politely talked to her, secretly annoyed. He watched their male dates stare at Taylor's chest. Ryan couldn't blame them.

She looked up at him, smiling a little, a secretive look in her eyes. He didn't care that she saw him. She already knew he watched her.

* * *

"Are you gonna let me fuck you yet?" he blew the smoke out of his lungs and watched it dissipate into the night air. She giggled, leaning against her car.

"Not at this moment, no." He shifted impatiently. "Here," she grabbed his hand, ignoring his protests, and pulled a pen out of her bag. He felt the point scratch against his hand – it was actually quite painful – and looked at it when she finally let go. Her phone number. "Call me," she instructed, getting out her keys.

"What if I don't?" he challenged.

She paused, car door open. "Well," she said thoughtfully, "if you don't call, you don't get to do me." She got in the car, giving him a little wave before starting it up and pulling away. Ryan inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

* * *

"Good boy."

Ryan was pissed off. That's how she answered. No '_hello'_, no '_who is this_?' Just '_g__ood boy'_.

"Ryan?" Her voice called over the line perkily.

"What?" he growled into the phone.

"You called me, you know."

"You told me to."

"And you did. I'm so proud."

This girl was annoying. He couldn't wait to fuck her.

"Well, we can't at this moment," she was saying, and he realized he said his thoughts out loud. She was even laughing at him a little.

"Why not?"

"Well, obviously because you're at your house, and I'm at mine." She was playing with him.

"Then why don't we remedy that?"

A pause. "How about tomorrow? It's Saturday, so we don't have school, and my mom will be out all day." He liked the sound of that. She gave him her address, said goodnight, and hung up.

He lay down on his bed, determined to make tomorrow come as quickly as possible.

* * *

She was gasping and writhing on her bed. Sunlight streamed through the blinds and hit the soft pink comforter that she was grasping tightly. Ryan pressed his thumb harder into the material covering her clit, and she made a mewing sound that drove him wild. But she didn't beg, which pissed him off. He wanted her to break, to admit she wanted this just as much as he did. His frustration was reaching a breaking point.

He leaned over, watching her face. It was controlled: eyes shut – not too tightly –, lips parted – not too wide -, brow furrowed – not distastefully. He really wanted to shatter her polite façade. He wanted to make her scream. He slipped his finger under the fabric, fingers probing against her slick clit. She arched her back, pressing her hips hard into his hand. Her face didn't move an inch, but he heard her breath hitch.

He pushed one finger into her, and was satisfied when her face flickered for a brief second. In that moment, her eyes had opened, mouth widened, forehead crinkling. It wasn't much, but it was enough. When his finger was as deep as it could go, he added another, but was disappointed when her expression barely moved. That wouldn't do.

A smug grin curled his lips up. He bent the two fingers inside of her, probing around until she inhaled sharply. There it was. Keeping the digits curled, he fucked her slowly, hitting that same spot over and over again. Each time he did it she gasped a little louder, opened her mouth a bit wider, breathed a bit heavier.

"Do you want it?" He was surprised at how rough and low his voice was. Damn it, this girl was getting to him. She didn't respond, so he spoke again. "Tell me you want it."

"Or what?" her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him, a challenge in her eyes. He almost lost it. This Newport bitch was going to play with him? He pulled his fingers out of her.

"I'm not letting you come until you tell me you want it." When her jaw clenched, he was triumphant, but the feeling didn't last.

She smiled politely, "fine." He watched as her hand slid into her pants, resuming his actions. She started to moan loudly, arching her body off the bed. He was enthralled and angry at the same time. Her hand was moving, but he couldn't see it, which was a problem. To fix that, he grabbed the waistband of her khakis, pulling them down roughly to expose her, fingers buried deep inside herself.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked him dead in the eye when she came. She didn't moan his name, she didn't scream. The only difference in her was the way her entire body tensed, and the look of pure want that passed in her eyes.

"Well," she pulled her fingers out, inspecting them as they glistened in the sunlight. She poked out her pink tongue, tasting herself. "That was pleasant. But I'm not sure why you had to come over. I seem to have managed quite well on my own." Her lips wrapped around the two fingers, and she sucked them slowly, cleaning them.

Ryan felt the familiar heat of anger flood through him. How fucking dare she? She was pretending like she didn't want him at all. _And_ she was teasing him, the little bitch. He should just leave, never look, never speak to her again. It would save him a world of irritation. He should, but he wouldn't, because he was achingly hard, and she was still splayed out across the bed. To hell if she wanted it or not, she was getting it.

He pulled his t-shirt off, and she smiled at him. "I see you're staying, then?"

"You said I could fuck you, so I'm gonna fuck you," the button of his jeans popped open, and the zipper grated as it slid down. She sighed dramatically.

"Well, wake me when you're finished." He resisted the urge to punch something, and stood up to finally remove the restricting jeans and boxers. She was looking at her ceiling in boredom, legs still spread for him. The bed dipped as he got back on, positioning himself between them. She looked down, and he swore her eyes widened for a brief second as she took him in.

If he hadn't been trying to outdo her in the not caring department, he would have growled at how good she felt when he pushed into her. She was so fucking tight, and she involuntarily clenched around him. He looked at her face, which was determinedly impassive. He pulled out, watching her face the entire time. Her gaze had focused on something on the right side of the room. He pushed back in, and her mouth tightened.

He went slowly, trying to make her crack. The pace was killing him, but he wouldn't go full force until she asked him to. It got harder and harder to control, because the fact that she _wasn't_ asking for it made him angrier and hornier. She was trying to look unimpressed, uncaring, but he was beginning to notice little things that told him otherwise: the way she bit the inside of her lip, the way she would inhale sharply as he pushed in, the way her fists clenched at her side. He bent his head to her ear.

"All you have to do is ask," he growled, and he swore he heard a small noise come from the back of her throat. He couldn't be sure, though, and that pissed him off. So he pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing it slowly, matching his thrusts. Pulling back his head, he could see that her eyes had glazed over, but she was still staring at the other side of the room.

He knew, though, when she climaxed. It was obvious, even if she tried to hide it. Her entire body tensed, and she clenched uncontrollably around him, pulling him in deeper, keeping him trapped. He watched her press her lips together, her hands grip the comforter brutally. He smirked, leaning down towards her ear again. "Good girl," he mimicked, and her hips made the slightest movement upwards. He could see she was glaring at him angrily, and he returned it with a smug, condescending smile.

He wasn't far behind her in coming, his own orgasm overtaking him after a few more thrusts. It was made all the better knowing that she had come, knowing that, despite her best efforts, she had wanted it too. He pulled out, completely satisfied, and began gathering his clothes.

"Oh, are you done?" she asked, trying to mask her breathlessness.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend like you didn't come."

"I didn't," she sat bolt upright, glaring at him. "I just pretended to make you feel better about yourself."

"Then why are you telling me now?" his pants were on, and he pulled his shirt back over his head. He watched her try to search for an answer. "See?"

She got up, pulling a sweatshirt on, and it hung over the top of her thighs. "You don't know what you're talking about."

He gripped her hair, kissing her roughly. "Look, little girl," he growled when he pulled away. His face was inches from hers, and she looked startled and a little angry at his tone. "I get that you want to be all in control and uncaring, but don't for a second think you're good enough to take me on."

She sneered at him, "how dare…" she gasped when he tugged on her hair harshly. His breath was coming out hot and heavy against her cheek, and she looked furious.

"I see right through you, understand me? This whole act you have going on? It's very convincing. Let me guess," he cut off whatever she had been about to say, "you pretend you're so high and mighty so no one knows how pathetic you feel. You let guys fuck you to feel validated, but pretend not to care about it at all, that way, you don't get hurt when they don't talk to you the next day." He couldn't tell whether she was going to kill him, or start crying. "You're very good," he slowed, letting go of her hair. "But I'm better."

"Fuck you," she hissed at him, looking for the world like she was going to murder him.

"Already did that," he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door. He was halfway down the hall when he heard a smashing sound come from her bedroom, and he smirked. Her mask was breaking.

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Stay tuned for part two: Shatter.

_Review!_


	2. Shatter

_Just in case someone skipped over the warning in the first chapter, here it is again. This story is very angry and very smutty, with very bad language, so don't read if you get all offended. Very bad examples are set in this story…_

_Current musical inspiration: 'Blue Monday' by Orgy, from the album 'Candyass'. Hey, Angry!Ryan, needs Angry!Music._

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Part Two: Shatter

He watched her, vaguely aware of the teacher droning in the background. She was stiff in her seat, not playing with him anymore. There were no coy looks, no exposed thigh, no licked lips. He was proud of himself; obviously he had gotten under her skin. She raised her hand to answer a question, making her shirt tighten on her chest.

"Ryan? Mr. Atwood?" he snapped back into reality, the teacher looking at him expectantly.

"I don't know, Ms. Freed. But I think she might," he smirked, pointing at Taylor, whose hand was still raised. The teacher sighed.

"Miss Townsend?" Taylor shot him a dirty look before turning back to answer. He settled back in his chair to watch her again.

* * *

She was waiting for him. "I want you to stop." Her eyes weren't focused on him, they were watching the corner of the building warily, as if someone would find them.

"Stop what?" he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and leaning back against the brick.

"Staring at me. It's not funny anymore." She fidgeted, flicking a leaf off her shoulder.

"I never said it was."

"You're going to set the bush on fire," she huffed, eyeing his cigarette, and the very flammable branches surrounding them. He shrugged.

"It's the only place I can smoke without people finding me. Except you, apparently."

"Maybe you should stop smoking. It's unhealthy."

"Good God, you're the most uptight person I've ever met," he groaned, inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes, releasing the smoke slowly.

"I'm not uptight. Smoking is gross. It ruins your teeth, and makes you smell," her gaze was still locked on the corner of the building.

"You didn't seem to care that much on Saturday," his intake was languid as he thought back to it. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to share his reverence. Her head snapped towards him, eyes filled with anger and… something else.

"Saturday," she began, "was a mistake. Don't think I'll make the same one again."

"Yeah?" he laughed, pushing lethargically off the wall and moving towards her. "You think so?" She stiffened, and he backed her into the wall.

"Look, Atwood," she hissed, and he laughed at the use of his last name. Coming from her, it sounded dirty. His amusement threw her off, made her angrier. He placed the cigarette to his lips mockingly, groaning happily as the smoke hit his lungs. He opened his eyes to witness her indignant reaction. She opened her mouth to scold him, but he pressed his lips against hers roughly, letting the smoke fill her mouth and lungs. Her eyes flew wide, and she started coughing, pounding on his chest with her fists to push him away. He broke off, laughing, but not stepping back. "Jackass," she gritted out, breathing deeply.

"So when's the next time your mom's out of the house?"he traced the pattern on her shirt with his finger, swirling it across her stomach, cigarette dangling from his lips.

"I told you-"

"Right, I forgot you're trying that whole self-esteem thing." A quick glance at her face confirmed that his words hit home; she looked upset and unconvinced. He took one last drag, then snuffed the cigarette out on the cold earth below. "How about you just give me a call when you get over it?"

He left her against the wall, satisfied that soon enough, she would call.

* * *

He sighed, and settled back into his bed, flipping the cell phone open. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, you're so predictable," he scolded, putting his left arm behind his head.

"My mother is out for the evening."

"Well, that's a bit cold. No preamble? No pleasantries?" he was enjoying this girl so much.

"You have a twenty minutes to get over here, or I start without you." There was a click, and the line went dead. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

* * *

She didn't speak one word to him. From the minute the door opened, she said absolutely nothing. She just led him to her room, and pulled off her clothes. He shrugged, following her lead. Her body was fantastic, soft and smooth and perfectly kept. Newport girls really knew how to take care of themselves. He watched appreciatively as she got onto the bed, sitting in the middle then looking back at him expectantly.

An idea came to him - the perfect way to make her snap – and, instead of pushing her onto the bed like she expected, he lay down next to her on his back. Placing his hands behind his head, his eyes flicked from her to his crotch, conveying his silent message: _get on._

Her face was priceless; horror, disgust, anger, and desire all mixed together into one delicious expression. He sighed, waiting. Eventually the desire won out, and she straddled his hips. He groaned in complete satisfaction as she sheathed herself, sinking down on him.

She was damn good at this. She bounced, rolled, ground her hips against him, hands splayed out on his chest. His own hands gripped her waist, guiding her up and down. "You know," his voice was low, no more than a growl, "I won't tell anyone if you let go a little." He felt her tense up, but she didn't stop riding him. "Fuck," he knew his fingers must be bruising her waist, "just… fucking scream or something."

She shook her head no – at least it was some reaction – and began clenching around him. His eyes closed against his will, and a loud groan escaped his lips. It felt fucking amazing, and now she was raking her nails down his chest. He knew there would be angry red welts there tomorrow, but he couldn't have cared less. He felt the muscles in his stomach begin to spasm, shooting brutal bursts of pleasure coursing to where they were connected. He pulled her hips down tightly against him, releasing himself into her.

When he opened his eyes, she was coming down from her own orgasm, which he had barely even noticed. Her eyes flicked open a few seconds after his, and she met his gaze, body going rigid. Rage boiled in his chest as she got off him, picking her clothes up off the floor and redressing. "Would you hold on?" he growled, getting up after her. "I've never met anyone so tense after sex," he told her, grabbing the shirt out of her hands. She grabbed it back, pulling it over her head.

"My mother's going to be home soon. You should probably leave."

He wanted to argue, wanted to yell. He wanted to throw her back on the bed and fuck her till she screamed. He wanted to see that pretty little face twist and contort with some sort of feeling. But he left, and she said nothing else to him on his way out.

* * *

She was under his skin.

He watched his cell constantly, waiting for the call that would get him inside her again. Despite her warnings, he didn't stop watching _her_ either. She started wearing pants, long sleeved shirts. Higher cut, looser fitting. He tried to convince himself it was because winter was approaching, but let's be honest: winter in Newport wasn't that cold. It was him. She was trying to turn him off, make him stop staring.

It was _so_ _fucking_ _hot_.

* * *

Smoking calmed him, soothed his nerves. He had been tense lately, and he knew it was because of her. Her polo shirts had gotten bigger, but he knew what a hot little body she had under them. She was wearing pants, but he knew what her thighs looked like spread apart, straddling him. He took a shaky drag, trying to shut his mind to the images. It wouldn't do any good to go face Seth with a hard on.

Seth was with Summer, who was waiting for Marissa to get done with the social committee. So Ryan was stuck here, wasting his time waiting too. He could be at home, jerking off, but no. Seth just _had_ to be completely whipped.

On the plus side, Taylor was in social committee, so maybe he'd get a look at her. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was three minutes past the time Seth had said to meet them. Shit. Now he was going to get chewed out by Summer about being late, and he really didn't need to hear it. He was about to step out of his smoking/hiding place, when he heard voices. He froze, the last thing he needed was someone seeing him emerge, finding out about his hiding place.

"Jesus, Taylor," an exasperated voice snapped. "You look awful in that. Are you _trying_ to drive people away more than your personality already does?"

"I'm sorry mother," her voice was tense and fearful at the same time. It drew him forward, made him peek around the corner.

A woman - Taylor's mother, he assumed - was shielding her eyes against the sun, and glaring at her daughter. "You look like you're pregnant, and your ass is huge in those pants. No man will ever want you when you look like that. Get in the car." The vehicle roared to life, and sped away.

No wonder Taylor was so uptight.

* * *

His cell phone rang, and a pulse of electricity went through him. He knew it was probably just Seth again, calling from his room to talk, because he was too lazy to walk out to the pool house. He was debating whether to pick it up or not, but lost the battle. The plastic was cold in his hand as he looked at the display. Another jolt shot through him.

"Taylor."

"Get over here now." The sentence was hurried and on edge; it sounded like she was pacing. "The door will be open, just come up to my room." Click. Dial tone.

He wasted no time getting out of there.

* * *

He felt weird, walking into her house without knocking. Her mother was out, which was good because he _really_ didn't want to ever meet the woman. He forced himself to walk to her room calmly, not wanting to appear rushed and needy. Oh God, was he needy? Dear Lord, he was. He was Seth. Just more masculine, less whiny, and-

_Fuck_.

She was waiting for him, completely naked. The minute she saw him, she was up and pulling at his clothes, tugging at them desperately. A strange emotion shot through him.

"Taylor…" he stilled her hands, trying to control his breathing – and his body. She shook her head no, fumbling to remove his grip. "Taylor, stop."

"Can we not do this?" she sounded on edge, like her voice was about to break.

"Do what?" Hadn't _she_ called him over? And now she didn't want to have sex?

"This thing where you try to make me feel awful," she was staring at his chest, hands gripping his shirt so tightly her knuckles were white. He felt something unfamiliar wash over him – guilt.

"I wasn't trying to… I just wanted you to _do_ something. Do you know how annoying it is to be fucking someone who tries to pretend like they don't like it? I mean, I get it, your mom is horrible. She really fucked you up."

"Ryan." It was a whisper, but it shut him up. She hadn't said his name since that first phone conversation. "I don't want to talk. Just…"

God, she couldn't even say it. She couldn't even ask him to fuck her. She could tell him to come over, she could order him around, but she couldn't ask for anything, even something he would gladly grant. Something in his chest spasmed; he had to get away from this girl. "I don't think I can do this anymore," he stepped away from her, hands in the air. He saw hurt flash across her face.

"Then get out," her voice was angry, but he saw fear behind her eyes. Shit, there was the guilt again. He was really starting to hate that feeling.

"Look..."

"Just go, Ryan. I don't need your pity."

"Taylor-" She backed away from him; he thought he saw tears well up in her eyes, but she looked at the floor quickly. "Taylor?"

She shook her bowed head, "go away."

"No-"

"Get out!" her head snapped up, eyes flashing in anger. He didn't move, and she picked up the nearest object – a tissue box- and hurled it at him. "Just get the fuck out!"

"Goddamn it!" he yelled, throwing an arm protectively over his face as the tissue box hit him.

"Get out, Ryan!"

"You're fucking insane," his eyes were wide, and he stared at her. She was naked and angry, and he was incredibly turned on. He ducked again as her hairbrush whipped by him.

"Then leave, and you'll never have to deal with me again," she was trembling, suddenly realizing she was naked and exposed. He watched as she struggled between throwing something else at him, and finding clothes. Clothes won.

She stumbled to her closet, pulling at a t-shirt so hard the hanger spun and flew off the bar. He was next to her in a heartbeat, "don't put that on." His hands slid around her waist, and he pressed his hardness against her hip.

"Get out, Ryan," she tried to sound stern, but it just came out defeated. She was already turning towards him.

"Are you done having a fit now?" his lips ghosted over her neck, and she nodded. He looked at her strangely for a second before continuing on. "Are you going to let me fuck you now?" Another nod. "Why?" she looked up at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Why? You were angry a second ago. I'm not sure you even like me. So… why?" It was the first time he ever saw her at a loss, for words, for thoughts, for feelings. He sighed, picking the discarded t-shirt up and handing it to her. "I'll be down in the kitchen. Come find me when you're dressed."

* * *

She looked more put together when she came down. Her make-up and clothes and hair were impeccable. "You're still here?" she breezed in, looking for all the world like she hadn't been yelling and throwing things at him ten minutes ago.

"I told you I would be. That's why you came down," he replied wearily; he didn't feel like dealing with this.

"You seem to think you know _all_ about me," she grabbed a cup out of the cupboard, filling it with water from the refrigerator.

"It's cause I do. Do you know how many girls in Chino I've dealt with? Trying to make themselves feel better by screwing any guy who's even vaguely interested, acting like nothing bothers them. It gets old, fast."

"Maybe I'm just bored," she suggested.

"Oh, that's a great excuse for letting all those guys in."

"Why are you complaining? You're one of 'those guys'."

"Oh, I fully intend to continue doing you, but you have to loosen up a bit."

"What if I don't?" the challenge in her voice made his blood pump harder.

"Then I'll fucking make you," he growled, stalking towards her. "But why don't we just take the easy route, and you lighten the hell up. What is so wrong about enjoying sex?"

"I do enjoy it," she sounded defensive and a little put off.

"Well, you sure as hell don't show it." He slid his hands around her waist, pulling her close, and felt her relax into him. "I just want you to... make some noise." He bent his head, lips kissing her jaw. "You know," he licked the shell of her ear, "say my name?" She shuddered, and nodded in defeat. "Say it."

"Ryan," her voice trembled, fingers running over his chest lightly. He groaned at how hot it sounded.

"Again."

"Ryan," she was bolder this time, kissing his collarbone. "Ryan... Ryan... Ryan..." she kept kissing his neck, whispering his name against his skin.

"Fuck," he grunted, picking her up and sitting her on the edge of the counter. He licked hungrily down her neck, over her collarbone, running his mouth over the fabric of her shirt. She was panting heavily, leaning back against the cabinets, watching his mouth travel down. He paused at the waist of her jeans. "You want it?" She swallowed hard and nodded. "Say it."

"Yes. Ryan, I want it." She looked ashamed, embarrassed, dirty. Her hips lifted slightly off the counter as he slid her pants down, and she gasped as her naked skin hit the cold marble again.

"Good girl," his mouth dipped between her legs, and her breath hitched as his tongue darted out to taste her. He smirked against her skin as she moaned and writhed, spreading her legs wider. Biting lightly on her clit, he pushed a finger into her, earning more noises. He was proud of her, showing his appreciation by fucking her with his finger.

"Ryan," she shuddered, "I want you." It sounded forced, but it was progress.

"Fuck yeah, you do," he growled, straightening up and pulling her off the counter, which was not exactly conducive to fucking. The kitchen table was a better height, and he dropped her off there, letting her sink back onto the wood.

He hurriedly unbuttoned his pants before sliding into her, the feel of her almost making him lose control. But he didn't want that, not yet. Not until she was comfortable enough with this new way of having sex. He had to calm down, stay focused. But looking down at her, hair spread like a halo around her head, face a broken mask of want and desire, body trembling and sweaty, it was too much. He began to fuck her in earnest, pounding so hard that the table squeaked.

His fear seemed unfounded. Instead of panicking, she only enjoyed it more. She was returning his thrusts with equal fervor, taking him deeper, providing a better angle. It was so fucking hot, the way she reached her hands up to pull his face down. She kissed him, gasping against his lips every time he slammed into her.

She was going to come any second, he could feel it in the way her body tensed, her hips bucking wildly. He was disappointed, though, when she climaxed soundlessly, biting his lip as her cunt clenched around him. "Damn it, Taylor," he groaned against her lips. She was shaking uncontrollably, fear and hesitance flickering across her eyes. His own orgasm was louder, his moans mixed in with the creaking of the table as he collapsed onto her.

He lay there for a while, reveling in the way her skin felt against him, the way her chest rose and fell as she tried to regain her composure. He felt her hands push against his shoulders, trying to force him off her. "Let me up," she sounded desperate and fearful. He lifted off slightly, and she slid out from under him.

"What?" he asked angrily, his moment destroyed.

"Look at the table!" she said shakily, pointing at the surface. "I have to clean it up before mother gets home."

He watched in utter confusion as she proceeded to scrub the table and floor, pulling the table back into position – he had moved it a few inches forward as he fucked her. "Couldn't you wait, I don't know, a few minutes before deciding to do this?" He was pulling his pants back on now, trying to focus on something so he didn't yell at her. His frustration with the girl was mounting, heart pumping angrily in his chest.

"Gee, Atwood," her clipped tone was back, muscles tensing, "I didn't really peg you as a cuddling type of guy."

"I'm not, but I usually like to relax a little after a good fuck, not get up and start cleaning. Jesus, I thought I was getting somewhere with you," he pulled open the door of the fridge – a little harder than was necessary – searching the interior for something to eat. "You have, like, no food in here."

She looked up from where she was pulling on her jeans, shrugging. "It's because I'm too fat. Mother doesn't want food lying around to tempt me." He eyed her suspiciously, but found that she was completely serious.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope. Especially since I started wearing… different clothes. She thinks it's because I've gotten fatter."

"Oh for the love of God, stop listening to that bitch," he snarled, and she looked up at him, startled.

"What do you care?" she spat, "I mean, you should thank the woman. She's the one who made me desperate enough to fuck you." She took a step back, wincing, as he slammed the refrigerator door.

"I think I'll get food at home," he told her, storming out of the kitchen. She made no move to stop him.

* * *

He sat in his car in her driveway for what seemed like hours, calming down. He flashed back to the expression on her face when he left. It had been angry, and a little hurt. The worst part, though, was the resolute set of her jaw. She had expected him to leave, and that was the underlying problem here. She _knew_ he would leave. She _expected_ him not to talk to her the next day. She expected him to ignore her, or tell the whole school what a slut she was, and laugh about her behind her back. Obviously it had happened to her before.

White hot anger pulsed through him at the complete lack of humanity these Newport people seemed to have.

* * *

She was back to wearing her normal clothes: the bright sweaters, the short preppy skirts. He wondered if she had taken his advice to ignore her mother. He walked past her desk on his way into class. "Nice outfit, Townsend," he murmured so only she could hear him. Her eyes went wide, and he saw the shock register on her face.

Settling down in his seat, he resumed his normal position: leaning back, arms crossed, eyes focused on her. She moved nervously through the period, shooting him questioning looks that he returned with nothing but a smug smile.

* * *

"You're wearing your old clothes again."

She had come to his spot, seeking the reason he was still talking to her.

"Yeah," she crossed her arms, looking uncomfortable. "Last night I thought I'd be rid of you, so I figured I needed to start looking nicer. You know, reel in a new guy?" He was surprised when a low growling sound tore itself from his throat. "Don't tell me you're jealous," she laughed scornfully.

"Well, how would you feel if I just started going after other girls?"

She shrugged, "fine with me. Do whoever you want."

"Really?" his anger was rising. "That's good, cause you know Marissa Cooper? She's really hot." He was sadistically pleased when she tensed up. "I was thinking I should see if I can get into those pants."

"Sounds good," she looked over her shoulder at the corner of the building.

"Yeah. I mean, she's really thin. I bet she's real shy in bed, you know? Real innocent."

"Oh, has she broken up with Luke?" he detected a slight tremor in her voice. "Cause he's really hot. All broad shoulders and chiseled jaw. Plus, he's really tall. You know what they say about tall guys, right?"

His fists were tightening at his side, and he accidentally broke his cigarette in half. "I think you should go for it," he tried to sound calm, ignoring the part of his brain that was shouting at him to punch something.

"You too. Have fun with Marissa." They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before she tore her gaze away. "Have a nice smoke."

* * *

Ryan was talking to Marissa, but he was staring at _his_ girl. She was watching him back, face blank, eyes devoid of any emotion. He tried to focus back on what the girl in front of him was saying.

"… so my mom wants me to go into therapy…"

He shut her out again. The last thing he needed was more of her complaining. Plus, he didn't want to risk telling her that, yes, she did need some therapy. She had a drinking and drug problem, and had OD'd, all by the time she was 16. Good Lord. His eyes flicked back to _her_. She was gone.

He found her with Luke Ward and his friends, flirting quite capably with the entire group. She glanced over at him, smirking, before turning a dazzling smile on the group of water polo players. They all grinned back goofily, eyes roaming over her.

* * *

"Luke, what are you doing?" Ryan tried to sound concerned instead of pissed off. "What about Marissa?" The two were in the boys bathroom, Ryan 'accidentally' following the other boy there.

"What do you mean? Marissa and I are broken up," Luke washed his hands, flicking the excess water back into the sink.

"Yeah, but going after Taylor Townsend is not the best way to get on her good side," the shorter boy reminded him.

"What do you care?" Luke sounded a little less sure of himself now. "With me out of the way, you can have her."

Panic fluttered across his chest as he tried to think up a cover. "I just want what's best for her. And with her life so messed up right now, she needs something stable. You've been her boyfriend for… forever. I think she needs you."

Luke paused, thinking – something Ryan never thought he'd see. "You're right," he nodded to the boy, then headed out of the room.

Ryan stayed in the bathroom, letting numbness take over him. Glancing in the mirror, he was surprised at how… haggard he looked. He was thinner, and there were dark patches under eyes that were surprisingly hard. It looked like all the muscles in his body were tense, but he could barely feel it. He looked like his brother.

* * *

She came to his spot again, looking disdainfully at the cigarette in his hand. "What do you want?" he sighed, tension and weariness taking hold of his body all at once.

"Luke Ward basically turned me down. He said something about not wanting to upset Marissa, and how you told him all that." She crossed her arms over her chest, quirking an eyebrow as she waited for a reply.

"So what?" he challenged.

"So you're jealous," her gaze held a level of mockery and pride.

He flicked the end of his cigarette, then dropped it to the ground, crushing it underfoot. "Yeah. I am." He could tell she hadn't been expecting that from the way her eyes searched his face. She looked like she was trying to figure out what his game was.

"You are." She said it like a statement, but he knew it was a question.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because you're mine, and if you seriously think I'm going to let another guy near you, you're insane."

* * *

They hadn't even made it inside. His back was pressed against the wet mulch of the garden as she rode him. He slid his hand up her thigh, ignoring the dirt he was getting on her. She didn't seem to mind either, but that might have been because she was completely gone. He'd never seen her like this, so unfocused and out of control. She was gasping and bucking and moaning out his name, pushing him farther down, making his head tilt back into the cool earth. In the back of his mind he was thankful for the bushes that blocked them from sight, because if her mother came home and saw this….

Just picturing how they must look made him thrust up wildly, and she gave a little gasping scream that made her eyes pop open. "Oh God, Ryan," she whispered hoarsely, somehow remembering that they were outside. He nodded, not able to express in cohesive words how incredible this felt. She leaned forward to capture his lips, and the new angle created an intense friction that tore a grunt from his throat. He bit her bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and making her moan loudly. He gripped her hips, rocking her back and forth on his cock. His orgasm was fast approaching, and he needed her to go with him.

"Taylor," his voice was scratchy and raw. "I need you to come for me, ok?" he asked, almost desperately, eyes locked on hers. She nodded with him, eyes wide. "Now, ok? _Now_." she nodded again, throwing her head back, and he felt her tighten around him.

"God, Ryan!"

_Fuck. _It was everything he hoped it would be, and more. The way she said his name while she climaxed was more than enough to trigger his own orgasm, and his hips lifted off the ground in his release. She slumped against him, face buried in his neck. She started to shake uncontrollably, and after a few seconds, he realized she was laughing.

"What?" he grinned into her hair, his finger tracing her spine. He felt her smile against his neck, and she bit him playfully.

"I didn't know sex could be like _that_," her voice vibrated against his skin.

"See, all you needed to do was just relax a bit."

She lifted her head, looking at him mischievously. "You're right. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself that all I had to do was start saying 'Ryan', and I would have awesome orgasms. Although, I'm not sure the guys I was sleeping with would have liked that…" He grinned up at her, ignoring the part of her sentence where she talked about other guys. Instead, he focused on that fact that _his name_ had made her come. "We should go in and get cleaned up," she rolled off him.

"Seriously?" he was annoyed again. God, couldn't this girl calm down-

"Yeah, I was thinking we could go take a shower…" she suggested, biting her lip innocently. He found himself nodding along, zipping and buttoning his pants as he got up. She smoothed down her skirt, and began brushing dirt off her knees.

* * *

She glanced over her shoulder, giving him that little smile she was so good at. His blood was thrumming through his veins, and he wanted to get out of here. But it would be a little suspicious if he got up in the middle of class and pulled Taylor Townsend out with him. Not the best way to go about hiding their… relationship.

* * *

She was waiting for him in his spot, giving him that same dirty smile. He forgot why he came out here, and immediately pushed her back into the brick. Her mouth is soft and hot and wet under his, and she began to make those little noises that drove him wild. He felt her hand at the waist of his jeans, traveling down and… off to the left? She reached into his pocket, pulling out the carton of cigarettes and the lighter.

He broke the kiss, looking down at her through darkened eyes. She smiled politely up at him, removing a cigarette from the carton and holding it to his lips. They quirked into a smile, opening slightly, and closing around the end of the cigarette. She then held up his lighter, flicking it, lighting the oil. He dipped his head down, letting the tip of the cigarette sizzle in the flame.

"Can I try?" she looked a little nervous, but resolute. He thought for a minute, then shook his head no.

"It's not healthy," he smirked at her, and she sighed. "Since when did you become so reckless?"

"Since I started fucking you," she told him, sliding her hands up his chest under his shirt.

* * *

"What?" Ryan growled through his mouthful of food.

"Nothing, man. Just… wondering where you go all the time," Seth squinted at him in the bright noon sun. "You're always gone for like, ten or twenty minutes at a time." He took a huge bite of his sandwich.

"I just need to…"

"Get away for a while," Seth finished for him, "I know. Does this have anything to do with you always smelling like smoke? Or maybe it has something to do with the way you're always staring at _Taylor Townsend_." Ryan winced. Apparently they weren't as stealthy as he hoped. He sighed, knowing the charade was up.

"I never quit, and I've been… seeing Taylor for a couple weeks," Ryan looked at his brother's eyes, daring him to say something.

"Well, just don't let the parentals catch you, cause they'll be _pissed_. But the real story here is this _Taylor Townsend_ thing. What the hell?"

"Why do you keep saying her name like that?" Ryan's fists clenched around his drink; he was suddenly very annoyed. "She's not some sort of disease."

"No… I know. But she's _Taylor Townsend_. Summer and Marissa are always telling me…"

"Ok, well I don't really care what they think." Guilt rushed over him at the uncensored hurt on Seth's face. "I mean, I don't care what Marissa thinks. And Summer just hates her because Marissa does." Seth looked a little more relieved. "She's not that bad. Annoying, yes," he smiled a little, "but not that bad."

"So what you're saying," Seth let an amused grin spread over his face, "is that she's awesome in bed." Ryan grinned. "How dirty are we talking here?"

* * *

"So you told Seth," Taylor mused, looking around his room for the first time. He watched her from behind, staring at her ass as she walked into the his place. "Ryan?" she called, breaking his concentration.

"Yeah. Which means Summer knows, which means Marissa knows, which means all of Newport knows. Are you ok with that?" he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She looked over her shoulder at him thoughtfully.

"Well, _I_ have nothing to lose. The question is are _you_ ok with it? People will be talking."

"I hate everyone here anyway," he answered, kissing the side of her neck.

"Well, that's comforting," she grinned, tilting her head.

"Except for the Cohens," he whispered against her skin. She elbowed him playfully. "And you," he amended, smiling. She rolled her eyes, breaking his arms open to look around his room some more.

"It's very you in here. No decorations, no frivolous anything."

He shrugged, not sure how to take that. He looked back over at her, and found her smiling at him. Not the playful, dirty smile, not the fake, plastic smile, but a genuine one. Looking around the room, he caught his reflection in the mirror, and was shocked at the transformation. He looked better, happier, not as tense. Less like his brother, more like himself. He found her gaze through the mirror, and she beckoned him over. He smiled.

_

* * *

_

End

_Review!_


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